Pick of the day
Sean Happens 6
Posted by celticman on Sat, 27 Apr 2024
Miss Dill and Mr Martin weren’t speaking to each other. It had continued over three or four days. They sent out for takeaways and binned the cups and plates they’d used. Miss Dill routinely applied rouge to freshen her face. But she’d done something to one eye so that it routinely stared ahead and the other eye took time to catch up. She really was two places at once, and nowhere in particular.
Read moreStory of the week
Sean Happens 3
Posted by celticman on Wed, 24 Apr 2024
Dad was sitting dozing outside the kitchen on a hard wooden seat. His balding head and ear were scarlet, and the sun had taken a blowtorch to his nose. His yellowing vest kept his belly from spilling over his shorts. An ashtray and can of can of lager were sitting underneath his chair. His eyes fluttered open when Mr Martin guided Sean towards the backdoor.Read morePoem of the week
Features
ABCTales Online Reading Event - UPDATE!
I'm very pleased to announce that we're having another of our brillant online reading events on Saturday May 18th at 7pm!
Read moreWant to join ABCTales?
We've had to suspend the automatic joining facility for a while so if you would like to join us please email
Read moreStory and Poem of the Month
Our Story and Poem of the Month for March very kindly chosen by Jane Hyphen:
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Posting From Your Android Phone - Fixed!
Some of you have been having issues with posting your work using an android phone. Ewan and John our techie have been working really hard to fix this.
Read moreBee's Journey
Picks of the Month
stars over kennet
Posted by JupiterMoon on Mon, 04 Mar 2024
stars over kennet
star lit stones
wrap around me
and i am held rapt
for a pitch-black procession
the memory of daylight
sleeping
beneath frosted ice
drawn down low
the cosy pelt of night
feels close enough to reach
and i want to pocket stars -
not to light my way
but because they are companions;
Read moreWindfall.
Posted by celticman on Mon, 18 Mar 2024
We had a great interest in ghosts, prompted by a fear of being called a shitebag for turning down a dare when we were younger. In a less than spooky way, it might even have been stronger than our allegiance to playing football, or our general interest in girls and their shortcomings.
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